da da doo doo mmmm

Come tell me “convict” and I’ll scream GAGA!

~ I’ve had a little bit too much, too much

try receiving 8 smses in less than 20 minutes, each telling you to do something, or informing you a deadline for something, or ask politely “can you please?”, which means i have to say yes.

Feel like replying everyone asking them to do something too. That thing, would be, go fuck yourself.

~ All of the people start to rush, start to rush by

I . want . to. rest. I imagined, me in my favorite PJs, stuck on my warm bed under my warm blankie, willingly. And then my conscience starts to take over, my sense of responsibility pours in. But still, my bod is stuck, to the bed.

I chew and chew and chew. Chewing my arm, chewing myself. Trying to get up. This is what I am doing this very moment. I can taste my own blood.But it doesn’t hurt at all.

~ Go! Use your muscle, carve it out, work it, hustle.

~ Don’t slow! Drive it, clean it, lights out, bleed it.

I’ll Wind you up, set you on time, and let you work, you say.

Even if I was made up of little things, with nuts and screws. I need to recharge. It’s not a piece of big fat rock weighting on me right now, it’s Ve Kenn. *gasps* And that is a kazillion times worse.

~ Just dance, gonna be ok, da da doo doo mm

~ Just dance, spin the record babe, da da doo doo mm

Yes, Ms Bree definitely needs to dance right now, dance like a crazy bull or something. Dance like it’s the last moment of grieving over you.

I love honey tarts,
Briaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-na